


this crazy love

by rooonil_waazlib



Series: You're So Thrilling [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, bucky's kitties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 18:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rooonil_waazlib/pseuds/rooonil_waazlib
Summary: “How was it?” Bucky asks.Steve shrugs, reaching up to scritch at Cat Steve’s ears. She tips her head into it and purrs. “It’s good to be home,” he says, and breathes in, enjoying the smell of their bedroom.Instead what he gets is a faceful of the scent of Bucky’s exertion; only now does he notice that Bucky is dressed like he’s just been to the gym, the tank top that saysCAT DADand the joggers that leave almost nothing to Steve’s imagination.Bucky crumples the granola bar wrapper up in his big hand and leans over to put it on the bedside table, the stretch of it pulling his shirt tight across his broad back.Steve can’t help staring. He’s—Bucky isproviding for him—while he smells likethat.





	this crazy love

The crux of it is this: none of the Avengers but Steve can handle these kinds of missions. Walking. Days without sleep. Walking. Running, briefly. Punching. Carrying a lot of heavy stuff. On foot. Walking.

Just because Steve can physically “handle it,” though, doesn’t mean it’s fun, or that he doesn’t need to recover. All it means is that he can wring a few more hours out of himself before he literally goes insane or just straight up dies.

When his head hits the pillow, it’s 5:17AM. He manages two things before breaking his ninety-four-hour day: giving a barely awake Bucky a thumbs-up, and patting Cat Steve clumsily as she settles on his back.

Then he clocks out.

…And clocks back in, immediately, it feels like. But it can’t be, because Bucky had been on his right side when he’d gone to sleep, and now he’s sitting on Steve’s left, shaking him awake. The clock says it’s 11:52AM.

“Muh?” Steve asks. The inside of his mouth is dry. The skin at the corner of his lip is wet. There’s a damp spot on the pillow.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Bucky says, leaning over him, hands planted either side of Steve’s waist. He grins when Steve blinks. “You’ve been asleep for more than a day.” Steve blinks again. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Steve hugs his pillow and takes stock. Almost immediately, his stomach howls. Bucky laughs and holds a granola bar up in front of his face. Sitting up, Steve grabs for it—misses—and lets Bucky open it because his hands are shaking too badly to be functional. When Bucky passes it to him, unwrapped, he breaks it in half, stacks the two pieces together, and shoves them into his mouth.

He chews cursorily and swallows, scraping his throat on the way down.

“Thanks,” he says, feeling at least a little more human. He settles back against the bed and looks around.

His suit, which he’d left strewn across the carpet in his fugue state, is gone, his shield propped up against the wall next to the bedroom door. Cat Steve meows; he cranes his neck to see her balanced on the headboard above him, her four feet tucked under her.

“How was it?” Bucky asks.

Steve shrugs, reaching up to scritch at Cat Steve’s ears. She tips her head into it and purrs. “It’s good to be home,” he says, and breathes in, enjoying the smell of their bedroom.

Instead what he gets is a faceful of the scent of Bucky’s exertion; only now does he notice that Bucky is dressed like he’s just been to the gym, the tank top that says _CAT DAD_ and the joggers that leave almost nothing to Steve’s imagination.

Bucky crumples the granola bar wrapper up in his big hand and leans over to put it on the bedside table, the stretch of it pulling his shirt tight across his broad back.

Steve can’t help staring. He’s—Bucky is _providing for him_ —while he smells like _that_.

It’s like he can actually hear the snap of the rope tethering his sanity down. His mouth is suddenly very dry.

“What?” Bucky asks. “Sweet thing? You want something else to eat? Drink?”

To keep from making an utter fool of himself, Steve grabs his water bottle off the bedside and chugs the whole thing. Bucky watches, looking a little concerned. Steve tries not to breathe. He smells like—like sweat, like man.

Steve gives up, abandons his water bottle, and clambers into Bucky’s lap.

To his credit, Bucky flows with it, his hands finding Steve’s hips with the ease of long practice. “Hey there, sweet love,” he murmurs. Steve bites his lip, his sleepy brain not completely with the program yet. “You miss me?”

“Yeah, Buck,” he manages to say, and then tips into him.

Bucky hums into the kiss, pulling Steve tight against him; with a low moan, Steve gets his hands into Bucky’s hair, tacky with drying sweat. He crowds close, wanting that smell all over himself, and yanks at Bucky’s shirt until he can find an edge and stick his hand under it.

Breaking away to laugh a little, Bucky looks up at him, rubbing one hand over Steve’s bare back, the other tracing the dip in his waist up over a nipple. “Look at you,” he says, low, hungry, and Steve shudders, drags his lip between his teeth. It doesn’t ground him; instead it lights him up, sharpens everything in him.

“Bucky,” he says.

“I know, sweetheart.” Bucky presses him to the side, down onto the mattress, and leans over him, kissing at his collarbone. Then he sits up, gets to his feet, making Steve whine. Like he can’t help himself, he leans back down, kisses Steve again, and again, and again, before finally pulling back. “Two minutes, honey, I promise.”

Lying on his back, hands prone by his head, Steve watches as he prowls around the room, turfing cats from their favorite hangouts and dropping them all unceremoniously on the carpet in the hall. Cat Steve is last to go, and then Bucky shuts the bedroom door and comes back to bed, pulling his tank top off as he kneels on the mattress.

“Missed having you under me like this,” he tells Steve as he presses himself all up along Steve’s front. “All sweet and wiggly like you can’t hardly wait for it.”

Steve latches on, legs already tight around Bucky’s waist, and sticks his face into Bucky’s neck to smell him. “ _Fuck_ ,” he mumbles, rocking up against him, and Bucky exhales hard and grabs at him, his ass, his hair, pulling his head back so he can bite at Steve’s throat. It plucks at something deep in Steve, something urgent and pulsing that makes him want to roll over and show his belly. He whines out loud and writhes under Bucky, panting into the hot air between them.

“Tell me what you want,” Bucky rumbles, his voice so deep in his chest that Steve can feel it where Bucky’s lying on him. “Kitten, tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Anything, honey love; anything you want, it’s yours.”

“Fuck me,” Steve gasps, feeling like it’s the only thing he knows how to say right now. “Fuck me— _Bucky_ —god—”

Already groaning, Bucky sits up enough to haul Steve over onto his front, yanks up on his hips so his ass is in the air, and crowds back in, flattening himself against Steve’s back. One hand reaches for the lube in the bedside drawer; the other he sticks unceremoniously down the back of Steve’s sweats so he can nudge insistently at his hole with his thumb.

Steve stretches into Bucky’s hands, moaning low into his pillow as Bucky scrapes his blunt nails all down his back, pulling his sweats down to rest at the tops of his thighs.

“Can’t believe it’s been two weeks without this,” Bucky mutters, quiet like he’s talking to himself. With no warning whatsoever he sinks two slick, hard metal fingers into Steve; he arches up, hard, his body curling toward Bucky like shards of iron toward a magnet. “Look at you, kitten. God, look at you. Don’t know how I survive when you’re gone.”

And then he’s in him, and Steve can’t help but sob a little as he surrenders to it, the pull of sore muscles, the push of Bucky so deep in him. He can almost taste him; he opens his mouth and breathes in, and if he focuses he can taste Bucky’s sweat in the air.

“God, Bucky—harder—please,” Steve mumbles, falling to his elbows. Bucky groans aloud, his fingertips bruising pinpricks on Steve’s hips; then he falls forward, his right hand landing next to Steve’s head as he fucks him hard, primal.

Gasping, Steve arches into him, his back against Bucky’s chest, sliding slick. He’d thought about Bucky, of course, during his mission; but after a while there hadn’t been anything _but_ the mission, the plodding hours of walking, day and night and moon and sun. And now here he is, pinned and prone under Bucky, who’s stroking up the inside of his thigh with his metal hand, and it hits him so suddenly he can’t even breathe, can’t even wait for Bucky’s hand to grip his cock. Hips jerking, he comes into Bucky’s palm, every muscle in him winding up tight. In his ear, Bucky says something, but he can’t hear him over the rush of his own pulse, and then he can feel Bucky coming too, hot up inside him.

Bucky doesn’t immediately stop moving, his hips still pressing against Steve’s ass; he bites at Steve’s ear, his jaw, his neck, like he can’t help himself, and Steve turns his head so that their lips brush, not quite a kiss, not exactly _not_ a kiss. Rumbling another moan, Bucky cups both his hands over Steve’s chest, squeezing, pinching at his nipples.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you just burn me right up,” he says. For some reason this makes Steve blush; he flattens himself to the mattress, pushing his face into the pillow, but it doesn’t stop Bucky from touching him all over, his voice in his ear. “What got into you, huh, honey love? I’m not complaining, just—that was so fuckin’ hot, kitten.”

Steve shrugs a shoulder, but Bucky doesn’t take that for a response, just keeps rubbing at his nipples, nudging him with his mouth, murmuring sweet things into his skin until Steve’s bright flaming red. “You—” he manages to say, “you smelled good.”

After a second Bucky chuckles, sending goosebumps washing over Steve’s skin. He breathes in—Bucky still smells like that—he feels—“You’re such a slut, sweet thing,” Bucky murmurs, and it makes Steve blush again, makes him hot under his lungs. He’s hard, hasn’t stopped being hard, and Bucky’s still in him, still pressing at him rhythmically. “Kitten, one day I’m going to put you facedown in this bed and not let you up until you’re screaming.”

Steve gasps, feeling utterly unstrung, scraped bare of words as Bucky rocks into him again, grabbing anything he can reach, tugging at the sweats still bunched around Steve’s thighs.

“Hey,” Bucky says, and his hand is in Steve’s hair, pulling his head back so his throat’s bare and exposed. “Hey, sugar, my sweet sugar honey love. You want to ride me? I’ll let you sit on it, darling, if you want.”

“Yes,” Steve pants, squirming a little because he can’t help it. It makes Bucky’s dick shift in him, pulse, and he whines. “Yes—Bucky, please fuck yes let me—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Bucky hauls him up by his hair and his hip, pulling and maneuvering him until he’s kneeling up in Bucky’s lap, their faces an inch from each other’s. “Hi, baby,” Bucky murmurs, smiling up at Steve. His hair is going curly at the ends, his eyes dark and sparkling. Steve’s hands clutch at his wide shoulders. “You feeling good?”

Wiggling closer, Steve frowns down at the sweats that are keeping him from being really skin-to-skin with Bucky. “I—” he pulls back, rolling off so he can shove his pants the rest of the way off, then climbs back into Bucky’s lap, tracing Bucky’s collarbones with both hands and looking down at him, breathless.

“Better?” Bucky asks. There are little crinkles around his eyes because he’s smiling so big.

“Yeah,” Steve says, breathless. Bucky looks so—so sweet, so happy to have Steve here like this. And he still smells so good. Pressing a little closer still, Steve kisses him, inhaling the smell of him, shivering when Bucky runs his big hands up Steve’s back.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve fumbles around a bit, giving Bucky’s dick a squeeze just so he can feel how big he is in his hand. Bucky exhales against his mouth as Steve sinks down on to him, both of them breathing a little shakily as they begin to move, slow against one another.

Tipping back into the pillows, Bucky watches him for a moment, eyes hungry on Steve’s face, neck, shoulders. He reaches up and rubs gently at one of his nipples, his other hand propped behind his head; belly button, waist, hip—he gropes hard at Steve’s ass, reaching around so he can rub at Steve’s ass with his fingers, right where he’s in him. Steve’s breath stutters, tipping his head back, reveling in the feel of it, all of it, Bucky’s touch and his gaze which he can feel so much it’s almost physical.

“Jesus Christ, honey,” Bucky says, and he hooks a hand under Steve’s thigh and picks it up, catching him with his other hand as he tips sideways. Eyes down, he fucks up into him, grunting, sweating; trying to get his balance back, Steve leans into it, placing his palms flat on the bed on either side of Bucky’s head. “Yeah, yeah, sweetheart, just like that—” Steve rubs at his own nipple, his whole body lit up—Bucky wraps a hand around his cock, his thumb finding that spot under the head that makes Steve twitch—

Steve comes so hard he can’t see, his muscles protesting, and collapses onto Bucky’s big chest, sticky. Giving one last hard roll of his hips, Bucky shudders into stillness, his hands tight and possessive on him.

Everything in Steve unwinds. He kisses the sweat-slick skin in front of his mouth, licks his lips to taste it. Slow, Bucky pulls his arms around him and hums, low in his throat. “Oh,” Steve mumbles, wiggling his pelvis as Bucky’s dick slips out of him.

Bucky spreads his hands over Steve’s shoulders, tracing the shape of his sides and then his hips and then his ass, trailing his fingers through the mess on Steve’s thighs. “I want to eat you out,” he says, his voice quiet in Steve’s ear.

But something about the word “eat” makes Steve’s body twang; his stomach growls so loud and long that Bucky starts laughing.

“Okay,” he says, nudging at Steve until he sits up, “I can take a hint. Let’s get some real food into you.”

They make it to the kitchen, Steve trailing behind Bucky so that he doesn’t see his knees threatening to give out. It’s because he’s hungry, but Bucky would call it something else, and then he’d be just insufferable about it.

“Why don’t you have a seat, baby?” Bucky suggests as he rounds the kitchen island and pulls open the fridge. “I made some spaghetti sauce earlier—I’ll just heat it up for you.”

Steve drifts toward the bar stools, but hesitates. They’re this pretty plush teal velvet and he’s…messy. Instead he sort of just—hovers, watching as Bucky piles spaghetti covered in red sauce onto a dish and shoves it into the microwave. The Duchess of Windermere walks up and meows at him, loud; so Steve picks her up before she tries to climb her way up his skin with her claws.

“Get out of here,” Bucky says, and he moves like he’s standing on one foot, like he’s shoving at cats with his foot. Steve can hear them meowing. “Hey, I fed you already. This is for Steve. You’re—stop it! You’ve already had your dinner!” Steve grins into the Duchess’s fur, choosing not to confront how just weak he is for Bucky. Then Bucky turns, grinning when he sees Steve still standing there. “God, you’re cute,” he says, those dark grey eyes making Steve even more acutely aware that he’s completely naked.

“That’s what every girl wants to hear standing buck-ass nude in front of her man,” he says. “ _Cute_.”

Throwing his head back, Bucky laughs, and Steve watches the curve of his throat, his grin, the thickness of his biceps as he runs a hand through his hair. He’s so big and so handsome, and Steve…well, Steve just loves him. “Sorry, sugar,” Bucky says. “You’re more than cute. You’re a fuckin’ smokeshow. You’re the wind under my wings. You’re so sexy sometimes I have to think about Hydra just so I don’t pop a stiffy during a meeting.”

It startles Steve into a laugh; something about it just makes him want to be near Bucky. Dropping the Duchess, he makes his way around the island, and as he comes Bucky reaches an arm out, and he tucks himself under it, right up against Bucky’s body. He has to nudge a couple of cats away from their ankles. “You’re so good to me,” he tells him, kissing at his clavicle. Bucky cups the back of his head in one hand and rubs his thumb over the shell of Steve’s ear.

They stand just like that, just breathing each other, ignoring the cats until the microwave beeps. Then Bucky pulls Steve along with him to collect the dish, and then to the counter near the silverware drawer. It smells delicious, and Steve takes the fork Bucky offers him and takes a bite so big he can barely chew it. His stomach yowls again, and the next thing he knows the plate is empty, and he’s feeling drowsy again.

While Bucky rinses the plate, Steve leans against his back, holding onto him, wondering if he could fall asleep standing up. “You tired again?” Bucky asks, drying his hands and then reaching over his shoulder to tweak Steve’s ear gently. Steve hums a yes.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he says, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist. Bucky cranes his head to look at him, and Steve mouths at his throat. “I’ll make it worth your while…”

The chuckle that Bucky gives is deep, dark—Steve shivers to hear it because normally it means fun things are in his future. “Let’s have a shower first, huh, sweet love?” Bucky turns, rubs a hand flat down Steve’s side, past his hip over his thigh, then back up, his fingers sliding in the mess between his legs.

Steve lets himself be led to the bathroom; he watches, leaning against the wall, as Bucky turns on the shower and tests the temperature before ushering him under the stream. He steps in behind Steve, crowding up against him to catch a bit of the waterfall too.

In here, steam rising around them, the scent of clean water mixes with that sweaty, testosterone-filled smell that’s been clinging to Bucky’s skin since he’d woken Steve up. It’s making Steve light-headed, and he turns, wrapping both arms around Bucky’s shoulders and leaning in to press his nose against his neck.

Bucky laughs again, leaning just a little to one side; his hands come back, slick, soapy, and Steve gives a low groan when Bucky’s hands slip down his back to clean come and lube from his skin. “Bucky—” Steve gasps—“oh—Buck, can I—can I blow you?”

“Well, since you asked so nice…” Bucky steps back, taking both of Steve’s hands in his to help him kneel.

From the floor, Steve looks up at Bucky, reaching up to wrap one hand around the base of his cock, half-hard. He leans forward, kisses at it—pauses to stifle a yawn into Bucky’s hip—nuzzles into the hand Bucky puts in his hair.

“Kitten, do you think maybe you should get some sleep instead?” Bucky asks. “I’ll let you suck me off later. It’s not an expiring offer.”

Steve hesitates, just long enough for another yawn to push its way between his back teeth. “I—” his legs _do_ feel like they’re turning to mush. “Will you lie with me?”

Bucky takes half a step back and leans down so he can kiss Steve. “If you want me to, honey love.”

Getting his hands under Steve’s elbows, Bucky hauls him up and finishes scrubbing him clean. While he does it, Steve kisses any skin that comes close to his face, mumbling his thanks again and again until Bucky shushes him, amused.

“I get it,” he murmurs, rinsing shampoo out of Steve’s hair, “you like it when I take care of you. Come on, sweet thing, bedtime.”

They shuffle back to bed and into it; Steve wedges himself up tight against Bucky, holding on to him, and before he knows it the world slips into darkness.

It’s dark when he wakes, and he picks his head up off Bucky’s chest to see the clock glowing red in the dark, telling him it’s 1:06AM. Bucky snorts awake as he settles back down, his hands coming up to pat clumsily at his shoulder. “Y’alright?” Bucky asks, his voice low and coarse and sleep-heavy.

Steve turns his head and kisses at Bucky’s chest, feeling the slow steady pound of his heart against his lips. His skin smells different now, not sweaty, just—warm and comfortable, familiar. Steve shifts; he can feel the pull in his muscles, all the places where he can feel where Bucky’d been, the spots where Bucky had loved him hardest. He shifts again, carefully, against Bucky, who makes a sound so low in his chest it’s like a purr.

“You’re insatiable, kitten,” Bucky tells him, and pulls him up into a kiss. Like everything else in the night it’s quiet, drowsy, and the fire it lights in Steve feels slow-burning but no less hot.

“Sorry,” Steve replies, his mouth right up against Bucky’s, “I’m sorry, I just—you get me so—”

“Nothing to apologize for.” Bucky’s hand slips down Steve’s neck, pinching one nipple before continuing its trajectory and wrapping around Steve’s dick, rutting up against Bucky’s hip. “I’m pretty sure it’s a compliment, anyway.”

“It is,” Steve gasps, “I promise it—it is—oh—”

He comes, sudden, and if he were fully awake it wouldn’t be enough, he’d need more, he’d need—but for now, he’s feeling so comfortable, so secure in exactly the spot that he’s in, here, next to Bucky, close and tired and warm…it’s easy to slip back off, into the dark, even before Bucky finishes cleaning them both up.

**Author's Note:**

> i just....felt like writing sex i guess? idk. anyway i'm still on [tungle](http://rooonil-waazlib.tumblr.com) even tho it's not The Thing anymore


End file.
